


My Heart is Fire, Smoke, and Steel

by WatteauYouDoing



Series: Long Live the Queen [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fantasy AU, Grillby gets kind of rough and feels REAL BAD after, M/M, NSFW, Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader is an AU version of Two-Bit actually, Threesome, basically lots of anachronisms, body issues, but like - was raised as a soldier, but they all love each other although they're too stupid to see it at first, but they had a lot of different influences so, everyone has emotional problems, forgive me lord for i have sinned, lots of feelings, lots of repression, no connection at all to my other stuff beyond the protagonist being kinda??? the same, not really medieval fantasy because there's jazz and stuff, not-hidden-at-all voyeurism, suicidal thoughts mention, their mouth is very foul, they're pretty different, this is actually more feelings than porn probably, though its in the past, without a LOT of alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:19:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatteauYouDoing/pseuds/WatteauYouDoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long night of questionable choices, (the former!) Doctor W. D. Gaster finds himself in the middle of a war of flirtation between you and Grillby.</p><p>Lucky him, since he likes being in the middle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Heart is Fire, Smoke, and Steel

**Author's Note:**

> screams why the fuck did the sex-repulsed asexual write almost 7,000 words of this garbage
> 
> (tbh this is an AU I've been jotting down notes for for awhile, but haven't wanted to properly do anything with until I've gotten farther with Thaumatale. BUT THEN SOMEONE ASKED FOR GRILLBY, SO, SHIT, HAVE SOME THREESOME PORN. i'm sorry. this isn't very thoroughly edited.)
> 
> This isn't related to Thaumatale at all, aside from sort-of sharing the main character... and it's a fantasy AU of Undertale! Monsters and humans live in peace. (Not that everyone wants to keep it that way but that's beyond the scope of this fic.)

The night has started, quite innocently enough, with you suggesting the addition of a drinking element to your nightly poker game.

It was just the three of you in Grillby’s room that evening, which wasn’t a particularly strange occurrence as you and (the former!) Doctor W. D. Gaster both lived and worked at the inn he ran. How  _that_ had come to be was a story in and of itself -- but, in essence, the bartender had a soft heart for rejects and wash-outs like you, and you owed him an immense debt of gratitude for it.

Initially, your proposition had been - in the interests of keeping an even playing field -- that the winner of the hand had to take the shot. But Grillby was damn good at poker, his skill reigning supreme despite his intoxication, and oh, that bottle of Lhotsian spirits looked so tempting. Things had kind of… morphed, a little, and now you just drank after each deal, with the silent agreement that whoever passed out first was the winner.

You were all very healthy people with absolutely  _no_ bad habits. Nope. None whatsoever.

Gaster was dealing this go, his beautiful, porcelain hands flitting over the deck. To be honest, the ex-scientist was a beautiful man in general; something about the way the light caught the bone of his face was just… artistic, and he possessed fingers crafted by the gods themselves. They were the kind of hands suited for playing the piano, and you maybe-kinda-sorta-desperately wanted him to join you one night on the stage downstairs. Didn’t matter if he could play or not - hell, he could just be eye-candy. He was popular enough as a waiter; why not as a showman?

(Hah, he was probably too shy for that.)

As Gaster neatly set each card out, nudging the corners so they were in perfectly straight and even lines, you noticed something interesting. Grillby was staring, just the same as you -- perhaps a little more blatantly, even, taking in that intent, focused expression and the careful, slight movements of his fingers. He looked like a man from the desert enraptured by the beauty of a waterfall, and, for all the world, looked like he couldn’t possibly tear his gaze away.

Oh boy. That was a  _feelings_ look.

Not that you blamed him, you thought to yourself as you downed another glass of smoky, purple liquid. Having a crush on Gaster was pretty normal. Heck, even  _you_ had a crush on Gaster. He was probably the cutest thing since sliced bread.

Er. Wait. That didn't make any sense.

Okay,  _so maybe_ replacing one of your shots with a chug had been a bad idea.  _Maybe._ You’d impressed the others, though, and that was all that counted.

Finally satisfied that the cards were  _perfectly aligned,_ Gaster deftly picked up his hand, tapping the edges on the table to get them straight before he fanned them out. It was a little silly of him to have gone through that entire routine considering the necessary ruination of his work, but... Why the heck would either of you say anything and spoil the show? It seemed to soothe him, anyway, and, well

After everything, You wanted whatever made the man happy.

With a click, you set your shot-glass down and took a gander at your fate. Immediately, you swore, a trailing flame of frustration prickling down your back. This had been the  _third_ round of insanely bad luck, and if you didn’t know that your drinking partners were the sweetest people alive, you’d have accused them of purposefully trying to sabotage you.

The both of them looked over at your exclamation, and you immediately folded, not even trying to bluff. It was too hot for that kind of thing, anyway. You waved slightly, immediately conceding your surrender to the other two…

And began rectifying the temperature problem by undoing the top button of your long-sleeved, skin-tight training shirt.

Nothing seemed weird about this to you because a.) you were drunk and b.) you had the modesty of a particularly fine peacock, that is to say,  _none at all._ So, without thinking too much about it, you stripped yourself of the garment, your revealing sharp musculature and the curve of your chest. With a soft fwap, you tossed it into the corner of the room.

After a languid stretch, you noticed that the game hadn’t continued, primarily because both pairs of eyes were firmly locked on you. Or, rather, your half-nakedness.

Squinting slightly - and genuinely not understanding the problem, because you’d certainly done this before - you asked, “What, is something on my face?”

“Ah,” Gaster managed, the sound sharp and choking, and you looked down at yourself. _Oh_ , came the distant realization. _No, you haven’t, actually._

It was funny how you’d managed to forget how badly you’d been ravaged by getting _blown up._

In fact, you’d purposefully avoided letting them see the ugly, mottled scarring splayed across the entirety of your right side, wrapping around your stomach and curling up across your back. Not to mention the silvery, finely crafted prosthetic arm grafted onto your shoulder: a replacement for the limb you’d lost in that horrible war...

...The one that your careless action clearly just reminded Gaster of, considering his horrified expression.  “Is -- is that my -- ”

“No,” you firmly interrupted, pushing yourself up and steadying yourself on the table. Woop, _someone_ was a little wobbly. “It’s not _your fault._ ”

“But it happened at Crestone.” His head tilted down and the lights of his eyes dimmed. Clearly, he didn’t believe you. “I’m so sorry. I never should have made that _damnable bomb._ If I had refused -- ”

You stepped closer, walking around the table and leaning over him. Your hands settled on his shoulders, one of flesh and one of silver, and you coaxed his gaze up with your voice. “Hey, Dingus. You weren’t the king who blew up his own people because it was _tactically advantageous,_ okay? It’s that fucker’s fault.”

“I...I could’ve refused, I could’ve…” He looked back down again at the hands threaded in his lap.

“Gaster,” you prompted softly, easing his face up with a light hand on his jaw. You rubbed a thumb across the smooth bone of his face, and rested your forehead against his. “I don’t blame you, so stop blaming yourself, okay?”

He sighed in miserable acceptance. You knew what he felt, deep down inside: self-loathing, guilt, a perpetual sense of mourning for the lives that had been lost due to his work… But he wouldn’t press the issue further tonight, which was probably the best you could hope for right now. You wanted him to have at least some reprieve from the demons of the past that plagued him.

The gentle touches you kept brushing across his face and neck seemed to be soothing him a little, so much so that the lights of his eyes dimmed and closed as he relaxed into you. In an absent gesture of affection, he settled those perfectly formed hands of his on your waist, his thumbs brushing up and down your side lightly. You didn't read into it, to be honest, Gaster was an… unintentionally tactile person. He'd often touch you casually and then become incredibly embarrassed when it was pointed out.

You considered it one of his many endearing qualities, and, yeah, you probably enjoyed it a little too much. You weren't quite pining for the guy, but did indulge in the occasional fantasy regarding him. Everybody did that about their best friends, right? Right?

Okay, maybe just a little pining. And maybe you kind of had to look away from his face, because hoo-boy, kissing him seemed like an absolutely perfect idea right now.

As you averted your attention, though, you noticed something. Grillby hadn't interjected at all in the conversation, which wasn't too unusual - the dapper bartender was a quiet man, after all, and the pinnacle of an absolute gentleman. He would never have wanted to intrude on a moment - and you knew he understood the somewhat… uhh, special baggage that you and Gaster shared. You hadn't really thought about what he might be doing in the meantime, though…

...But you certainly didn’t expect him to be sitting straight up in his chair, attention fully on the two of you as a blue hue danced in the fire swirling around his face and scalp.

You knew what that meant. Grillby was _flustered._

See, You and Grillby had this… thing. It was hard to describe, really - it wasn’t quite sexual tension, although that was certainly part of it. Grillby was a cool guy, which was the height of irony considering he was literally a fire elemental. Calm, collected, hard to frazzle and catch off guard, Grillby wasn’t the sort who got embarrassed by teasing or flirting. He would take it with his usual polite-yet-stoic demeanor... which was an absolute shame, because seeing him embarrassed was like sampling fruit from the temple of the gods. But, hey, the scarcity meant that each success was positively euphoric.

To put it simply, he was _unfairly adorable when he blushed._ And boy-howdy, did you go to some extremes to make that happen.

Like… repeatedly getting incredibly close to him, the gap between your mouths so small that his warm breath tingled on your lips, and, with a slow motion, trailing your hand up the seam of his waist coat, as--

Er. Okay. So you might have fantasized about him, too, but as it had already been established, it was totally normal to want to smooch your best friends. Besides, you had enough self-control to pull back when you'd won - that is, after working him up a bit. It was all in good fun, after all… and he did the same to you, laughing softly if he did manage to make you stutter. Which, to be honest, actually wasn't that hard. If it wasn't you posturing, you actually got embarrassed pretty easily.

And, okay, sometimes you did wish that he wouldn't pull back, and that he would actually just make out with you behind the counter, but, y’know. Fat chance. It was just pretend flirting; you were a bit too… worn out for either of them.

By that, you meant that a magical bomb had been dropped on your regiment and you still had vivid nightmares about dragging your mauled, bleeding body from a pile of your friends’ corpses.

Your baggage, both emotional and physical (yay scarring!) was surely too much for them. Either of them.

Which was. Definitely not something you were sad about. At all!

Anyway, back to business - you were pretty damn sure you'd just found a new weapon in the war of getting under Grillby’s skin. That is… you were at least 90% percent sure now, given the way he was looking at the two of you, that he was a kinky fucker who'd totally be into watching you and Gaster make out. Deciding that there was _obviously_ only one thing you could do, you caught his eye -- he burned an even brighter blue once he noticed that _you'd noticed_ \-- and sent him a quick wink to let him know that, yes, you were onto him and, yes, this was absolutely going to be for his benefit.

Looking back at your friend, you shifted your head and softly called, “Gaster?”

He made a soft noise, his eyes flicking up to yours in attention. “Mmn?”

Something seemed to catch in his throat as you leaned in to kiss him, and you paused, that strangled sound making you hesitate. It occured to your alcohol addled brain that, you know, maybe Gaster wasn’t actually cool with this. You were very suddenly coming on _very strongly_ to him, and he had no idea that you were just doing this to torment Grillby. It wasn’t like you were fulfilling your _own_ gross, lustful desires or anything.

(You were _so in denial._ )

Luckily for you, you didn’t actually have anything to worry about, because after a momentary hesitation, Gaster dragged you to forward with a particularly fervent ferocity that said, _holy shit this is very welcome please stick your tongue in my mouth._ His arms snaked around your waist, heaving you onto his lap as he tipped his head up into the kiss.

Wow, uh, okay.

There was a slight clatter of metal as you shifted your prosthetic, being very, very considerate as you slipped it around his back and gripped onto his shoulder. Gently, at first, but soon increasing in intensity, you ran your tongue across his mouth, exploring its small edges and delicate cracks. It was so smooth in some places, like fine, silken dishware, and yet, in others - especially the very corners - there were little rough, jagged, teeth-like spots that caught your tongue.

You took in a shaking breath, sweeping your thumb against the bump of his cheek. The one of flesh and blood, of course - you still didn’t quite trust that metal arm of yours. It never felt quite natural.

Perhaps the gesture brought your prosthetic to the forefront of his thoughts, because his hand traveled up your back in a gentle stroke, settling near the spot where the metal hooked into what used to be your shoulder. He traced a small circle against the bone, there, curling his other hand against your neck and humming in drunk pleasure.

Your skin tingled, prickling with each motion, no matter how drawn out or fleeting. The heated haze that had consumed you contrasted vibrantly to the cool smoothness of his bone, making each breath fluttery and delicate. You curled into him, hooking your ankles around the legs of the chair and pressing your hips into his, which elicited a sharp little whine from him. Your chest flush against his, his fingers threading through your hair…

...you wondered what Grillby thought of all this.

Softening your kiss and finishing it with a quick peck, you pulled back just enough to look at him, and -- hell, if you weren’t in love with him before, you certainly were now, with his face flushed grey and his mouth curved into a slight smile. Ah, and his eyes… dazed, yet warm with overpowering affection. You were quite the lucky fool, being able to have him look at you like that -- even if it was just for a little while. “H-hello.”

“Hi,” you replied, unable to contain your smile.

He took in a shuddering breath as you shifted your hand, grazing a nail across his jaw, and you finally allowed a look to the side, checking on Grillby.

 _Holy shit,_ was all you managed to think. _Hoooly shit._

For a moment, you got a clear, candid picture of him, of his face flushed blue with desire and his hand pressed firmly between his legs. Goodness, and he wasn’t making a sound - you could see how tightly he had his ethereal mouth pressed shut, trying in vain to maintain some semblance of composure despite how much the sight of you two had ruined him. If you listened closely, you could hear faint wisps of his shaking breathing curling through the air.

Gaster followed your gaze, taking in Grillby’s appearance in the dusky lamplight - and oh, you felt his breath catch, you could see that admiration, that appreciation of sheer beauty of the scene. “Am I dreaming?” he mumbled, and go be honest, you wondered the same thing yourself.

The way he burned when he noticed you both looking, the way the fire snapped and curled and flared bright with embarrassment, chasing away the shadows for a brief, bright instant… it made you dizzy. His hand flinched back, gloved fingers curling in on themselves, and it was such a pity that you felt like you had to intervene.

“You don’t have to just watch, you know.” You couldn’t keep the smirk out of your voice; this was just _too good._ You did spare a quick glance in Gaster’s direction, not wanting to speak for him.

He was already talking, though, even without a prompting look. “I don’t, um. Mind. Either.” The slight husky quality to his soft, shy voice implied a little more than that.

Grillby was still for a long moment, and then - suddenly - he stood, a breath held in his chest and his hands clenched at his side. A crackle of flame, a quiet click-click of leather soles on wood and, suddenly, he was there behind you, intense warmth fanning across your back and neck as he leaned in. The sudden sensation of his teeth against your shoulder had you arching into Gaster with a gasp.

Encouraged by the noises you were making - and, presumably, Gaster’s little whine -  Grillby pressed another mark to your neck, and then another, and another, until a flurry of desperate little kisses and bites traveled across both your shoulders. His hand crept down, trailing down your abdomen until it reached the band of your pants - which he toyed with for a moment before slipping his fingers under it.

The warmth of his hand spread between your legs, and -- panting -- you draped yourself over Gaster’s shoulder, clinging to the back of your shirt with your real hand. Grillby rubbed lightly, using his other hand to support himself on the chair as he leaned over you, capturing Gaster in a fervent kiss. Tilting your head in, you began to work at the bone of Gaster’s neck, flitting your tongue across the vertebrae in little motions and, Desperate for something to do with your hands, you began to unbutton Gaster’s jacket. And --

That was when the chair started tipping.

It was hard to tell what had happened -- to be honest, you didn’t really care -- but suddenly, you were leaning forward way too much, and there was nothing to really catch yourself on. Gaster was in an even worse position than you, being on the bottom of the stack, and he let out a rather undignified squeak as he felt himself fall.

Ah, gravity. The ultimate kinkshamer.

Luckily for the both you you, Grillby was surprisingly strong for his lithe frame, and his reflexes were so good that, y’know, sometimes you wondered if there was a little more to the man’s history than he was letting on.

A problem for another time. Whatever his life had been before he settled down with his bar, it’d prepared him for saving the pair of you from an untimely introduction to the floor. One of his arms was around your waist, holding you close at his side, and the other hooked across Gaster’s back, pulling the man towards him as he stood. There was a moment of silence as the wood rattled against the floor, then, Grillby softly crackled, “You’re alright?”

“Yes,” Gaster mumbled, settling his hands on Grillby’s shoulders and going in for another kiss.

Not wanting to be undone, you undid the buckle of Grillby’s belt with one hand. “Mmhm. ”

He took in a deep, shuddering breath, splaying a single, warm hand across Gaster’s cheek as he continued where they’d left off. He kept the other arm firm around you, and after a few moments, you resolved to escape the grip for… better access. “Isn’t this better than watching?” You laughed lightly as you tried to duck under the arm around you.

Like a vice, his hand clamped down on your side, and he broke the kiss to look over at you. There was something strange in his expression - a sort of intensity that you’d never seen before, never on his restrained face. “You are an _incredible tease,_ ” he murmured, voice like peat. He pulled away from Gaster, muttering a quick ‘ _excuse me for a moment’_...

...And then hauled you over to the bed, pushing you down and swinging his leg over you in a smooth motion. You were about to say something shitty and snarky before he shut you up with his mouth, and then you couldn’t think of much at all.

Of all the times you’d imagined Grillby, you’d never once thought that your first time with him would be this rough. He was a calm man, with a certain kind of confident gentleness that made him an attractive bartender - and beyond that, a reliable and dependable friend. You’d thought anything between you would be slow, methodical - careful, like him, with deep, inscrutable meaning.

Not to say you didn’t like this - because you _fucking loved_ this - him kissing you with the intensity of the sun, robbing you of air with his mouth and his body, him working off your pants with a single, rough hand before taking them the rest of the way with his toes, him running his palms - warm, like heated stones - across your scars and the bumps of your muscle. And you -- fumbling at his pants, hooking your legs around him as he entered you, fingers gripping at the cool silk of the vest he hadn’t bothered to take off (and trying not to rip it with that stupid arm of yours).

He only stopped to take off his glasses, which he shoved roughly on the bedside table.

You curled into the feeling of him, gasping with each motion and calling his name - which only seemed to make him want you more, though he didn’t say as much. He was quiet; beyond the heavy breathing near your ear, he didn’t speak at all, not a whisper, not a moan… Until he came, a sharp sound that he clicked his teeth down on, burying his nose and his mouth into your shoulder as he eased into it. You let your arms drop to the bed as you just kind of.. breathed, revelling in the feeling of absolute warmth and exhausted peace. Holy shit.

Very, very quietly, he murmured your name, so softly that you almost thought you’d imagined it.

You probably could have fallen asleep like that if it weren’t for two things. One - Gaster. You instantly felt really fucking bad for leaving him out, and were about to pick yourself up and apologize (and, uh, _take care of his needs_ if he wanted) when number two happened.

Suddenly, Grillby rolled himself off you, scooting himself back and covering his mouth with a hand. “I -- I’m sorry,” he managed, and -- shit, something about his breathing sounded really weird. “I am so, so sorry, I -- …”

Wow. All you could guess was that he felt really bad about monopolizing you. “I -- I’m sure it’s fine,” you tried to calm him, leaning towards him in concern. “Ah, Gaster -- “

You looked at him, then, and had to pause.

Wow. Doctor W. D. Gaster was more flustered than you’d ever seen him in his life. You were pretty certain that, in the last ten minutes, he’d discovered a _whole_ lot about himself that he never knew was there. He also seemed not quite certain if he was allowed to be watching, because once he noticed your attention, he averted his gaze in the manner of a particularly guilty dog. With a few quick, sharp motions, you caught his eye and beckoned him over, nonverbally saying, _yes, get over here you dolt._

Gaster got the hint, carefully approaching with a hand held out to the elemental’s shoulder. “Grillby?”

He would look at neither of you, turning away from your concerned looks and putting his face in his hands. “I’m so very sorry; I told myself I wouldn’t take advantage and I _did._ I -- “

“Wait, what?” You and Gaster both said in tandem, exchanging looks before turning your attention back to Grillby.

Who still wouldn’t look at you, and his flicker had dulled, barely a burning ember. “I promise you, my intentions were purely innocent when I offered you jobs and rooms to call your own. I don’t know when it turned into this, but -- “ He folded his hands, then, palms pressed together and fingers touching his forehead. “I never meant to… you have no obligation to…”

It took a moment for you to get your brain back into gear. Obligation? Mother of all, he thought you’d banged him due to _obligation?_

He thought this was all just -- obligation? Some fear about being turned out of house and home? Shit, you’d literally never worried about that, not with him, never with him.

Unbidden, it all came spilling out. You blamed the drink. “Grillby, you dolt, I’m so in fucking _love_ with you. You’re kind, you’re sweet, you’re generous, you’re _damn fine_ , you -- you got me feeling like a human being, again, Grillby, to be honest, If I hadn’t met you, I’d probably be dead. Shit, _obligation?_ Obligation can kiss my _ass,_ I wanna fuck you because you’re _you._ ”

You paused as Grillby and Gaster looked at you in horror, and for a brief, paralyzing instant, you wondered if you’d offended them with your soldier’s tongue.

It was Gaster who voiced his thoughts his thoughts first, in a tone both suspicious and careful. “What do you mean, if you hadn’t met Grillby, you’d be dead?”

“Uhh,” a pause, and you realized you’d been way too forthcoming. “I mean.”

“...You meant that to be your last drink,” Grillby said quietly. “Didn’t you?”

“Um.” Damn, Grillby was _sharp,_ and from your grimace, there was no way you could conceal the truth. You pulled back, sitting back on your legs and holding up your hands. “I mean, it was a long time ago,” you tried to lighten the information with an easy smile. “I didn’t, y’know, there wasn’t a lot to live for, then -- it was just after the war! It wasn’t like I was going to _kill myself,_ I was just gonna, uh…”

You winced at their expressions. “...Get killed? Properly? It’s not bad!”

Grillby heaved you to him, again, bringing your cheek to his shoulder as he hugged you tightly. Gaster Joined him a moment after, sandwiching you between the two of them as they both fussed.

“If I’d never said anything -- “

“I’m so, so sorry -- “

“You’d be -- “

“Oh gods, I’m so glad you’re alive, I’m so glad I met you, I -- “

“I’m fine, you sorry pair of hens!” you growled in exasperation, your voice somewhat muffled by Grillby’s shoulder. “I swear, you’re both _drunk._ ”

“So are you!” Gaster exclaimed indignantly, fighting back in protest when you shoved a palm into your face. “That’s alarming information! I think I’m allowed to be -- _alarmed._ ”

“Oh, suck my fuckin’ dick, it didn’t happen, so stop worrying about it! You have enough to fret about, already! Stop addin’ shit to your list!”

“Suck _mine,_ I’m going to worry about you as much as I darn well please!”

“Fine! I will!” At some point during the argument, you’d actually started fighting each other, although it was more completely ineffectual shoving, particularly since Grillby still had his arms around you. He looked on in bemusement -- it was, apparently, hard for him to keep feeling like a gross piece of shit when this was going on.

“You -- “ Gaster paused a bit, your foot against his face, which probably gave him a _really_ nice view, now that you thought about it. “What?”

“I’ll suck your dick!” You said, with a comical amount of feeling for what should be a sensual offer.

“Uh.” His brain seemed to shut down a bit. “Um.”

“Or would you rather it be Grillby? -- Actually, man, if his mouth is as warm as his hands that’d actually be pretty excellent -- “

“Um!” Gaster interjected, louder this time, as if that would somehow _make you stop._ “Grillby! Are you still! Ahh, are you still feeling badly about all this! Because I do not want you to! Um, feel badly, that is!”

He stared at the fiery man with something akin to desperation - less sexual and more _oh my god please this is extremely awkward, let’s go back to talking about your emotional problems, I’m much better equipped to handle those as long as they aren’t my own because I’m actually a mess._

“No,” he spoke softly, a soft chuckle vibrating in his throat. He looked down to you, half curled in his lap, and then at Gaster, with his hands folded tightly in his lap in a way that suggested he was trying to conceal something. “It all seems a little silly, now.”

“Good! Because you were being silly! I mean, not to take a turd on your problems, or anything, that’s not what I mean.” You swirled your fingers around each other, gesturing while you talked -- as was quite common for you. “I mean. Okay, yeah this is all shit we should probably talk about, but we can do that after we’re done being hung-over tomorrow. Sound fair?”

Gaster coughed lightly. “Um. Yes.”

“Great!” You chirped. Then. “So, about what we were talkin’ about earlier -- “

Putting his hands over the spot where his ears would be if he had them, he made a soft ‘aaaaaaaaahhhhh!’ noise to drown you out. You _snickered._

It was then that Grillby gave you a very soft peck on the side of your head, and then scooted you off of him so he could kneel in front of Gaster, staring up at him as he settled his hands on his knees. “Are you too embarrassed to say yes,” he asked softly, “Or is this something you genuinely don’t want?”

“Uh.” Gaster _stared,_ and, being the nosy snoop you were, you got up on your knees behind him, placing your hand on his shoulders as you checked out the view. And. Damn. The ‘mussed up gentleman’ aesthetic he had going on was pretty great, with his half-undone tie and his uneven shirt, plus the whole, oh haha still pantsless thing. “Uh. I. Embarrassed. I. Um.”

“So…” A single finger trailed up Grillby’s leg. “It would be fine if I did this?”

His voice was as dry and fragile as a dead, fallen leaf. It probably didn’t help that you’d gotten a little handsy yourself, tracing little patterns across his neck. “Ah. Yes.”

Turning his face inwards, Grillby kissed the inside of his thigh. “You’re certain?”

A quick little nod, and while it was still shaky, his voice was slightly stronger as he said, “Yes.”

“Very well.” Leaning in, he nudged his leg with his nose, then pushed his legs open with lightly applied pressure from his hands. “Please, say something if you change your mind.”

“R-...right,” he breathed, tipping his head back into your touch. “Ahh… what did I do to deserve this?”

You picked up where you left off what felt like an age ago, undoing the buttons of GAster’s coat and slipping the black fabric off of his shoulders. “Good question! What do you think, Grillby… was it spoon feeding us soup when we both caught the flu?”

There was a soft hum of contemplation as Grillby ran his thumbs up the entirety of Gaster’s leg, starting with a swirl around his feet and slowly crawling up his calves and his thighs. “Perhaps the morning he cleaned the entire inn and worked the kitchen while I was too hung-over to move.”

“Ohh, good one.” You worked on his white turtleneck, next, languidly pulling it up over his head -- and making sure he could feel every inch of your torso on his back as you did so. “Getting a _left handed trumpet_ made for me probably is a contender, too.”

“The writing practice, the continual encouragement…’ Grillby leaned in, kissing the fabric of Gaster’s pants before working at the buttons. “...I’m sure that deserves mention.”

The memories made you chuckle softly, and you ran the tip of your forefinger over his ribs in a slow, winding motion. You kept your metal limb at your side; you didn’t want him to have to feel the chill.

“That… none of that was that much,” he managed, clearly flushing from the praise. And. Well. The other stuff, too. “Anyone could…”

“But it was you who did,” Grillby hummed, slowly pulling his pants down. Gaster wasn’t quite all skeleton - his legs were made of shadow, mostly, something dark and flickering that melded into bone around his torso, and Grillby dragged his fingers around the curve of his thigh, slowly and agonizingly teasing him.

Gaster squirmed slightly, and - in something like impatience - he hooked his ankles behind Grillby’s back, encouraging him forward. That got a little snicker out of you, and you leaned in, running your tongue slowly across the bumps of Gaster’s spine - flicking and curving over each turn and divot. And -- along your way - you whispered, one by one, “You’re kind… gentle…. generous… fun to tease…”

“Smart,” Grillby breathed, breath hot between his legs.

“Well-read,” your tongue flattened, and you began to work your mouth against his ribs.

“A _continually_ interesting…”  A pause, as Grillby’s mouth was occupied for a _very_ long moment. “...conversation partner.”

“Oh _gods,_ ” Gaster gripped the sheets of the bed, the crimson fabric tangling between the shining white of his hands. A sound of pleasure whooshed would with each exhalation. “Oh, you’re, you’re both… ahh!”

Suddenly, you picked yourself up and ran your tongue across his jaw. “What was that?”

“Y--y...you…” He didn’t even have a chance to properly form words. The back of his head rested against your shoulder as he closed his eyes tight, and you had some mercy on him, wrapping your arm supportively around his torso.

Shakily,  Gaster picked up a hand, settling it on Grillby’s flickering head. Slowly, lovingly, he ran his fingers across his scalp, then brushed them against his cheek as Grillby pushed forward again, running his warm tongue across him. It was - fascinating to watch, because this, too, was GRilby, so gentle, and careful, and considerate, with light touches and slow, passionate movements. You massaged The bump of Gaster’s hip, cupping him in between your legs as you found a comfortable position for yourself.

You loved this, too, this half-dressed Grillby on his knees, warm and comforting as cider in the winter.

Crap.

Crap, you really were in love.

You’d been fully and completely telling the truth, hadn’t you? Earlier, you hadn’t quite realized the true depth of what you’d said. You were in love. With him, and --

This damn fool, too, whimpering underneath Grillby’s touches. How many nights had you spent with him, picking over books and fighting about literature? How much time had he spent trying to convince you that there was far, far more open to you than just the path of blood? How enthusiastically he tried to broaden your horizons, pulling you out of that box you’d been locked away in...

They saw you -- a _construct,_ taken from childhood and altered into a weapon of war -- as a _person._ How could you not love them both? Your country - the very thing you’d been created to serve -- had betrayed you, and, shit, they’d picked up the pieces, put you back together again…

How could you not be willing to die for them? Without question, without hesitation, they only needed to say the word and you’d give your life gladly for their sakes. Because -- because, you could really, really love being in a world that had them in it. You’d give your life for a world like that.

They were your everything. And you loved it.

...It was then, that you realized -- shit, it didn’t matter what they felt about you. It didn’t matter if they loved you, or wanted you, because you would give them your _everything_ while expecting nothing in return. Just… having them in your life was enough.

And this, right now? Was so much more than enough. It was your sweetest, most tender dream. You couldn’t help but think on Gaster’s question before --

_What did I do to deserve this?_

The answers eluded you, as they always had, and you embraced Gaster tightly as he came, feeling each shudder, tremble, and whine, and never had you felt more complete than this moment. Man --

Why did all of these startling life revelations come to you when you were drunk?

 _No matter,_ you thought to yourself, lowering the pair of you to the bed as Gaster turned, clinging to you and tucking his face into your bare shoulder. He reached for your metal arm, taking it by the elbow and placing it around him, too -- and it was strange, to you, that he wanted that thing anywhere near him. But -- well. It was an object of scientific curiousity, you supposed, and you ought to be grateful, really, it did make life so much easier for you.

Was it childish of you, to feel like it made you more of a machine? More of some being cobbled out of spare parts? Ahh, you knew Queen Toriel was only trying to make reparations for the crimes of her father - (or was she?) - but it _still felt kind of filthy having a gift from that damn family on your body -_

(What the hell, you’d just had _sex_ why were you _thinking about this --_ )

You heard the bed creak, slightly, as Grillby sat down across for you. His back to you, he undid his tie, shrugging it off his neck and setting it beside him. As he slowly finished undressing -- carefully folding his shirt and his vest and setting them away -- you turned your attention back to Gaster, who had gone rather quiet and still.

...Had he fallen asleep?

Hmn, not quite, apparently, because when Grillby lay down beside him - spreading his warm back out against his spine - you felt Gaster arch, slightly, drawn to his warmth like a cat to the fire. Being unwilling to part with you, though, he pulled you in closer, bringing you further into Grillby’s reach. You saw the man smile at you from beyond Gaster’s head, a soft, jagged expression that warmed you just with its presence

Grillby reached out to you, curving a finger across your cheek - and then, it slipped further down, trailing across the scars branded so heavily into your body. It caught you by surprise, somewhat, that gentle motion. The way he was looking at you was --

...You had to look down at Gaster, unable to meet it.

You felt his hand still, and after a moment, his voice prickled in concern. “Did… I hurt you?”

Confused, you looked up at him quickly. “What?”

A hint of blue twisted around the core of his face. “Ah… earlier. Did I hurt you?”

You snorted once you realized what he meant. “Pfft, do you even _know_ how much magic I have pumping in these veins? You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to hurt me.”

The scrawl of his mouth drew into itself, and he thumbed one of those ugly marks. “I didn’t just mean physically. I was… out of line.”

You chuckled, softly, idly pressing a light kiss to the top of Gaster’s head. Yeah, he was probably dozing off, the lug. You supposed that meant he lost. “Seriously, don’t sweat it. I, uh, I mean -- I was just as into it as you, you know?”

Apparently, the memories had come back in full-force, because a blue glow had overtaken his eyes. “Aha -- well. I… mmn.” A sigh. “I’ve… admired you for quite a while, but I thought you were simply teasing me, all that time.”

Man, it was surreal to hear - to have verbal confirmation that, no, this wasn’t just one bad, drunk decision he’d regret later. “So, all that teasing… we both thought the other was joking?”

“That… seems to be the way of it, yes.”

“We’re fuckin’ idiots.”

He chuckled, softly, tucking his mouth against the top of Gaster’s head. “I suppose so, yes.”

“...Why me?” you asked softly. Gaster - you could understand. Easily. But -- you? _You?_ In the end, you were a fucked up, sham of a person. Stitched together souls in a beaten up chassis of flesh.

He stared at you for a long moment. “I -- hah, I’m uncertain where to begin. Your determination? Your sense of humor? It does help that, despite what you may think, you are _very_ attractive.”

“Attractive,” you said dryly, an eyebrow creeping up. “Me.”

He spread his fingers against your side, rubbing at the rough skin. “I have, on more than one occasion, awoken early for the precise reason of watching you do your morning routine.”

“You’ve got some weird fetishes, Grillby.”

He shrugged, slightly, the curve of his mouth amused. “I’m not as frequent of a visitor as Gaster is.”

You looked down at the sleeping man between you. _“Gaster.”_ Innocent, sweet Gaster had been sneaking by to watch you do your exercises?

“Every day, I believe.”

“Pft! Gonna have to keep an eye out, next time.” You laughed, a rough, scraping chuckle. You fell into silence, not quite sure what to say -- the drink was doing its work, and the evening _had_ worn you out. Grillby’s soft little touches were lulling you to sleep when he spoke, once more, voice a quiet wisp.

“...how hard you try, to be just. The inherent contradiction in you - so strong, and yet, so gentle and caring. Above all else…”

Pushing himself up on his elbow, he leaned in towards you, catching your mouth in a brief, warm kiss. “...I love you because you are a hero.”

You swallowed, staring at him, and then tucked your face down to hide it. A fervent, embarrassed blush had consumed you -- and your stomach twisted in youthful nervousness.

Ahh, he chuckled, the cad, at what he could do to you. But there was no teasing, after that -- just soft breathing, and warmth, of Gaster nestled against you, and Grillby’s gentle touches lulling you to sleep.


End file.
